a/n: Hello and welcome to Chapter 13 of The Cool Guy. I honestly though this would never be finished (lies on my profile, people. Lies) but here it is, and I think there'll be one or two, maybe three chapters after this. KH does not belong to me. I hope you enjoy the chapter.


Chapter Thirteen

By now Roxas's shirt was drenched through with sweat, and his upper arms were beginning to ache, but the thundering in his chest and the buzzing that permeated near his head refused him respite: he was busily throwing his possessions back into their packing boxes, stuffing clothes and sheets and books into the pile without caution; his fingers were shaking too much for the neat folds he'd normally employ. Finally a painted blue china saucer slipped through his slack grip, shattering against the edge of the table, and he threw himself against the closest surface of wall, using one arm to support him and pressing the other against his forehead as his anxiety climbed.

Forcing himself to breathe evenly was a chore--- he couldn't help the ragged pace. Every time he thought about Axel (which was about once every thirty seconds) he was left gasping. What if Demyx hadn't bursted in at the last moment? What was Demyx doing there? Why had he let things go so far? In addition to his frenzied thoughts, he was thoroughly aware that he'd worsened the condition of his foot threefold during his escape.

His foot. Oh god. The pain had only just begun to bother him again, and even now it seemed a little faraway, but he was not looking forward to how it would feel when he was thoroughly calm---if he ever was again.

He sighed---he wasn't thinking straight. Somewhat reluctantly he left his post at the wall and stepped gingerly to the medicine cabinet in his tiny bathroom, and downed a few painkillers. He spared himself only a glance in the mirror, but it confirmed his suspicions---he looked like hell. Interestingly, he seemed caught between disguises, having cast Sora into disarray throughout the afternoon. He squinted, hands gripping the porcelain sink loosely. A weary smile cracked his face: he couldn't tell which he looked like. He wasn't quite in the persona of Sora, but neither did he seem to be the person he'd been only a few days ago.

When was the last time he'd changed himself, Roxas wondered. He'd always thought he was good enough, hadn't he? He was always above everything. Sure, his aloofness had helped that sentiment. But he'd also considered himself…more. More intelligent. More ambitious. But mostly, more interesting.

How cruel had Axel's remarks actually been? No one had ever said something like that to him, sure, but it wasn't like it was the first time he'd gotten chewed out.

But…

It was the first time someone had accused him of not being the thing, growing up in a homogenous small town, desperately searching for a way to identify himself, he had treasured most.

It was the reason he'd left his home. It was the reason he'd never went to college, and it was the reason he'd met his best friend. It was why he talked to paintings and why he walked like he meant it, and it was the one thing that, being isolated so thoroughly and for so long from his peers, he took refuge in.

And Axel hadn't known that. That was why it had burned, had driven him to distraction---why he needed so much, not to give as good as he'd gotten, but to show him he was wrong.

And he was being too arrogant, too egotistical for the entire time, to see that, and to understand---that if he wanted to show Axel how interesting he was, all he had to do was replay the day in his head. Days. Because it wasn't like he could just become a different person at will.

Sora only knew about wit and courage and paintings because Roxas did.

Roxas shook his head, catching sight of the packing boxes through the doorway.

He had some cleaning up to do.

Before he had managed to unpack even one box, having stopped first to change his clothes, eat his first nutritious meal in days, and acquire a new icepack for his foot, the phone rang.

Roxas eyed it guiltily. There were only two people who would be calling him, and he wasn't ready to talk to either of them.

He listened to the click, and then the buzz of the answering machine. "Hey. I know you're there, Rox; so talk to me before I decide to---"

"Hayner!" Roxas stumbled to the phone, and grinned.

"Way to drop off the face of the earth, man."

"I needed the change of scenery. And pace. And perception."

"So how've your first days been? Anything exciting?" The wry voice was obviously aware of his mother's panic and expected a story of some sort.

"How much time do you have?" Roxas leaned easily into the sofa, opening the window with one hand so as to feel the cool evening breeze on his face.

Hayner only snorted into the phone; he wasn't in the habit of talking unless he had hours on end to do so. He was like that.

Roxas smiled. "Okay, then I'll start at the beginning. The first person I met was a man like a pirate, and he was absolutely intent on evicting me, because he thought I was someone else…"

Hayner remained silent through the bulk of the story, which was told with far more amusement than Roxas had thought. When he explained how he'd spent a night in the street he heard a small sound of consternation, and also some murmured appreciation when Roxas spoke of the huge runaway dog in the museum.

By the time Roxas was through the sky had long been black outside and he was almost certain Hayner had nodded off. But after a moment of silence he heard his friend suck in a large breath and sigh loudly.

Roxas waited patiently for the verdict, absently prodding his foot. It wasn't hurting too badly anymore.

"How many girlfriends have you had, Rox?"

Roxas froze.

"You're shocked." Hayner sounded almost apologetic.

"It's just not what I was expecting. I figured you'd say something like…well, I don't know, but something about how completely out of character the whole comedy of errors thing is, and how gullible it is of me to think that I can actually disguise myself."

Hayner chuckled, not a drop of the uncertainty Xigbar had about the whole thing in his laugh.

"No, Rox. I know you know that there aren't people alive that stupid. What you've got is a group of people who know you by the name Roxas and a group of people who've been told your name is Sora and probably a couple of people who are wondering if you go by your middle name part of the time, or what. The illusion, what makes it seem plausible, is that you've only been around these people a couple of days, and they're not well connected. Sounds like one of those really complicated groups of acquaintances. Axel may have been drunk that night and forgot what you look like, or maybe…well, I won't tell you what you already know."

Roxas stared out the window. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" He asked, barely audible.

"No," Hayner said firmly in his ear. "You were presented with a problem and felt like you had to show a new face to the client. Plus, it sounds like everyone over there is insane. You were doing creative problem solving and they, if you noticed, were all so wrapped up in their lives that no one could tell you to calm down and go meet the guy properly.

"Instead you're closest to the pirate guy who hates Axel's guts and dramatizes everything, you caught the attention of an editor who would love, I'm sure, to get his hands on your real life case of the city-anonymity-induced comedy of errors and thusly made you paranoid about absolutely nothing, you decided to work for a psychotic employer simply because you were feeling depressed and helpless and he instilled in you, again, the belief that Axel is a terrible guy because of his own vendetta and---let's face it---the only reason he hires a messenger is because he can't stand the guy and he likes to freak the hell out of people with his blonde haired buddy by telling them that bullshit story about how you need to be a well trained stalker to get the job done, and you've been so caught up in self doubt and the fear that when you tell Axel you were trying to impress him that he'll decide to hate you you haven't looked too closely at all about why that really really bothers you, why you can tell me the exact shade of his eyes, and why your mum sounds the tiniest bit sarcastic when she asks if you've found a girlfriend yet!"

Roxas held the receiver six inches away from his ear when Hayner's voice rose to a hoarse yell. Then he dropped the phone. Then he picked it up. Then he considered dropping the phone again just to focus on something other than the words of his best friend.

"…Roxas? All right over there? It's just an outsider's point of view—"

"You're right. I've never had a girlfriend, Hayner, I don't even look at girls. I figured I didn't have much libido, god damn me, that eventually…when I found the right one…but I didn't care about when or who."

Roxas looked at his feet, remembering how he felt when he saw the shirt that obviously wasn't Axel's. Everything Hayner said about Marluxia, Xigbar, and Saix…well, at least that didn't come down to his ignorance of his own sexual orientation.

"So you actually meant yes. I have been ridiculous." Roxas laughed.

"Well, yeah. You're just that kind of guy. You knew you were going to get chewed out for this at some point, right?"

Roxas smiled. Then spluttered. "Wait a minute. My mum? Sarcastic? You mean she knows?"

There was a shuffling sound and Roxas knew Hayner was putting his hands in the air. "I'm only telling you how I hear it, when she says it. Wistful, yes. Bit pathetic actually, and then you see that flicker of a smile, and it starts to make sense."

"What, you two get together now?"

"Just over breakfast the other day, to talk about you. The way she talks I half expected you to be tied in a closet when I called. Said you sounded "strained" when you talked to her. I figured I'd wait a week or two but just look at what you've managed over the course of a few days. It's just like that time over Thanksgiving break with the feathers and two dozen copies of The Catcher in The Rye---"

"Okay, okay. Geez, Hayner, I was just starting to forget about that."

"The point is, you've done stuff like this before. Not quite like this, and not in this muddled, manipulative sort of capacity, but still."

"I just ran away from the only person who's ever seen me in a remotely romantic way. I've been parading around lying to people, believed people who I just met and cemented that belief because I got told off in a club by a stranger. My toes are broken, I spent hours indulging the whims of a selfish flower seller, I may appear in a journal article that will have people laughing at me for who knows how long… So it's just like highschool, really. And not, at the same time. Because this time instead of getting tangled up in and manipulated by ideas, which is what it always was, it's people. I got involved with people. Plural. I made connections. That's…new stuff for me."

"You know what you have to do, don't you?" Hayner asked gently.

"Yeah. I do. I was just starting to come to that conclusion, before you called."

"Let me know how everything turns out. I'm gonna get some sleep now, and I suggest you do the same."

"Good night, then. And thanks."

Roxas hung up the phone and stretched. It had been a really long day, and he wanted nothing more right now than the comfort of sheets that still smelled like home. By the time he curled up for the night, though, he'd taken out the trash; contacts and hair dye inside.

a/n: I hope this doesn't sound like I'm trying to wrap things up quickly, because I'm not. I had intended for this to play out a bit more but then I realized Roxas is too rational to not think things through and realize he's been caught up in the motivations of others. Plus, well, Axel has been growing on him for the past few chapters, and I think I had enough internal dialogue in previous chapters that this all makes sense. There is still plenty of action to come---this, after all, is only Roxas's internal resolution. I think any outsider would come to Hayner's decisive ruling; and in fact I might be poking fun at myself with his reaction to the plot.

Yes, Marluxia and Larxene just like to mess with people. For the most part.

Of course, you can feel free to be tremendously angry with how I'm handling things. If you are, send me a review! If you're not, send me a review anyway.

Thanks so much for reading.